


A Right to Complain

by impossiblefox



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 07:20:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4426388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblefox/pseuds/impossiblefox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick and Pete are left home alone to fight about things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Right to Complain

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic. Enjoy!

  “What do you wanna do?” Patrick asked from the couch. It was 7:30 in the evening and Joe and Andy were out God knows where, doing God knows what, probably at they gym, or a park or something. They never told anyone where they were going.

  “I don’t know, I’m hungry,” Pete replies from the kitchen as he closes the door to the pantry.  “Joe ate the last two slices of pizza. I hate him, I _called_ those. I’m the one who went and called the pizza place. And you guys ate most of it. I only got three pieces.”

  “Three slices is enough. I only got two.”

  “But you don’t even _like_ pizza that much. Neither does Joe. Anyways, that only adds up to seven slices. What happened to that other one?”

  “…I don’t know, Pete. But we can order more. It’s not a big deal,” Patrick said, remembering getting up for a 2am snack that morning.

  “Fine.  But that means I have to wait forty more minutes for food.”

  “Okay?”

  “Not okay! I go put the effort into getting pizza, for me, and you all come in and-“

  “Shut up. I’m calling the place. Turn on the TV or something.”

  Pete reluctantly sat down next to Patrick on the couch, and turned on the TV. By the time Patrick got off the phone, he’d chosen to watch _Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives,_ with Guy Fieri.

  “We’re not watching this,” Patrick said.

  “Why not? It’s fitting, they’re talking about pizza.”

  “Exactly! You’re going to complain the whole time!”

  “I have a right to complain.”

  “We’re not going over this again! Give me the remote!” Patrick said, growing annoyed.

  Pete sat still, remote on his right, Patrick on his left.

  “Stop being so stubborn!” Patrick said, reaching for the remote. He knew he could just leave, but God, Pete was getting on his nerves. _He had a right_ to be annoying right back. Pete picked up the remote and held it away from Patrick. He lunged for it, pulling them both off the couch onto the floor.

  Patrick had the remote in his hand, but he had Pete right on top of him as well, looking him in the eyes, with a stupid smirk on his face, only inches away. They didn’t move for what felt like an eternity. Patrick stared right back, and gasped a little when the situation truly registered in his brain.

  “I…” Patrick started, trailing off, cheeks pink. Pete moved his face closer, stopping right before the gap was filled, staring into Patrick's eyes. Patrick put his hand to Pete's cheek and pulled him in all the way, letting their lips meet softly. Pete pulled back too soon, after a few moments. 

  “I…” Patrick tried to start again, still speechless. He looked at Pete, his pretty brown eyes, his lips, his pink cheeks, his solid jawline, everything.

  “You didn’t tell me you were such a good kisser,” Pete said, still smirking a little, as he stood up, and sat on the couch.

  Patrick sat back on the couch as well after a few seconds had passed. They were situated almost exactly as they were before, but a little closer. The remote was on the floor, forgotten about.  Guy Fieri’s voice filled the room, but Patrick didn’t pay any attention. His mind was spinning with thoughts about what happened. He eventually decided the experience was good. Unexpected, but good.

  A little later, the doorbell rang, startling Patrick out of his thought bubble. Pete got up and paid, thanked the delivery girl, then brought the box to the coffee table. “Dig in,” he said, opening it and grabbing a slice. Patrick moved his foot forward to do so, accidentally stepping on the remote, turning off the TV. He laughed quietly, nervously, and looked at Pete, who laughed back. He moved a little closer to Patrick, away from the arm of the couch. “You know, Patrick, I really like you,” he said. “And you have a little piece of cheese on your chin-- here.” He grabbed a napkin  and wiped it off, smiling sheepishly.

  “I like you too,” Patrick said, in a soft tone, then laughed. “I like you a lot... But I didn’t know just how much until, well, just now.”

  “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, how much I like you.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t want to ruin what we already had, you know? I decided I’d rather play it safe and keep you as my best friend, than risk losing you altogether.” Pete was almost whispering by the end of the sentence. “You mean a lot to me.”

  Patrick took his third bite of his slice and said, mouth full, but sincerely, “Even if I didn’t like you in that way back, it wouldn’t have ruined anything. I wouldn’t leave you for a reason as stupid as that-- ...but I do like you back.”

  "Do you wanna, I dunno, be more than best friends?"

   "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

  Pete grinned and opened the box to take a second slice. Everything felt right. 


End file.
